


Reinforcements

by Interrobam



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Cybertronian culture, Decepticon Justice Division - Freeform, Decepticons - Freeform, Gen, Humor, Mild Gore
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-04
Updated: 2015-06-04
Packaged: 2018-04-02 18:44:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,664
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4070569
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Interrobam/pseuds/Interrobam
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When her ship is ambushed by Autobots, Reroute sends a distress signal. Once she sees the rescue party, she wishes she hadn't.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Reinforcements

::AID AID AID:: Reroute’s servos tapped desperately at the makeshift signalling device she had wired together out of salvaged parts, scrap, and the ship’s only portable battery.

<<They’re taking the fuel now>> Tripwire’s voice came tinny over the private comm, echoing in Reroute’s audials.

::AID AID AID:: The enemy ship had fired some kind of spur into their hull, it had wrecked most of their onboard electronics. When the communications array had begun to fry, She had only been able to save enough of it to send out a crude binary signal. It had a dismal range.

<<The stock?>> Reroute asked over the private frequency, her servos working quickly in the darkness of the supply closet.

::AID AID AID:: They had chosen this route _because_ it was out of the way, unconventional. The chances of another ship, a _friendly_ ship, being nearby were, to put it optimistically, small.

<<Crew supply too>> Tripwire answered. <<They’re almost.. done>>

“Proteus’ Voxcoder,” Reroute swore aloud. “Fragging _Autobots_.” This was her fault, this was _all_ her fault. She’d been monitoring all of the standard frequencies, but the interference she’d dismissed as radiation from a nearby star turned out to be coded chatter. Why did she have to be so fragging _inept_? She wouldn’t be surprised if her own transmissions had tipped the Autobots off to their location.

<<Reroute>> Tripwire’s voice sounded uncharacteristically soft <<If- if this is...>>

<<I’m signaling for help right now, Trip>> Reroute vented hard, trying to cool her overheating frame in the enclosed space. <<I’m right next to the bridge>> For a while Tripwire’s side of the line remained open but silent, static popping gently between the two mechen.

<<How’s Deckrun’s patch holding up?>> zhe finally asked. Reroute touched the weld on her leg. It was still dry.

::AID AID AID:: The blast that had sent debris flying through the ship and torn her plating open had been part of the initial ambush, before their medic had been overwhelmed with other wounds in need of urgent attention. Still, it was thin, designed to be temporary.

<<Good>> she replied over the comm. <<Trip, I>>

Reroute was interrupted by a harsh, sudden buzz, she nearly dropped the device she was cradling. At first she thought she had broken something, until she parsed the message in the noise, a request for more details.

::DCON NONCOMBAT NEED AID:: she replied, venting with terrified, tentative relief.

::REQ ISSUE:: the reply came immediately, and she felt her spark nearly jump out of its casing.

::ABOT AMBUSH APPROX 100 COMBAT::

::REQ STAT::

::SUPPLY VESS POP 67::

She waited for what felt like eternity for a reply, entire frame tensed.

::REQ COORD:: Reroute felt cleaning fluid threatening to leak into her visor, she painstakingly recorded and sent their coordinates.

::REQ ETA:: she asked once the coordinates had been confirmed.

::7 MIN::

The bridge was ten minutes away. She’d have to run. She lifted the battery from the floor of the supply closet by its handle and tapped out one last question.

::REQ POP::

::5::

“ _Five_?” Reroute repeated incredulously, pausing with the closet door half ajar. Their ship had had a warrior escort of _twenty_ and they had been wiped out in under an hour. For a brief moment she considered telling the ship not to come, that they would only be wiped out like the other combatants, but cowardly hope won over. She had given them the numbers, they knew the odds they were up against, and they had offered their aid anyway.

::GRATEFUL:: she tapped out before tucking the communicator under her arm. She glanced down the hall before half hobbling half sprinting towards the bridge, ignoring the smears of energon and paint on the walls, the smell of fuel and blasterfire. Her leg twinged terribly, she ignored that as well.

She arrived on the bridge in just under nine minutes.

Reroute’s servos shook as she input the code to unlock the main entrance, venting with relief as she heard the electromagnets release. With only sparse electrical power available, the gate wouldn’t open automatically. She leaned down to pull the handle at the base of the barrier, straining against the weight of the gate to lift it off the floor and fold it upwards into the ceiling. She let out a desperate, binary curse when all her efforts could only budge the gate to her knee.

Suddenly, an enormous servo slipped through the crack, and the barrier folded up and away like cheap tinfoil. Reroute laughed, giddy with hope, as her burden was lifted away, she stood up to greet the five massive mechs who… who...

...was that the fragging DJD?

Was that the fragging _Decepticon Justice Division?_

Every actuator in Reroute’s frame locked up. _How did they get here? Why were they-_ Reroute cut that thought off right there. She did not need to waste a single second more of her (apparently soon to be _brief_ ) life pondering the obvious. Everyone knew why the DJD went somewhere. To kill traitors as slowly, messily, and agonizingly as possible. Reroute was no traitor, but she’d hear rumors of the DJD coming after people for accidentally stepping on an image of Megatron, for forgetting to polish their badge, for misquoting _Towards Peace_. They were exactly the kind of mechen who would consider “letting Autobots take over your supply ship” a crime punishable by a slow and painful death. _But how did they-_

“Are you the one who signaled for aid?” asked the largest mecha in the group, a bulky tank (he must be Tarn, he must be _Tarn_ ). Tarn swept his arm dramatically to indicate the communications device still clenched in one on Reroute’s servos. Said arm was equipped with a double fusion cannon that she could probably have crawled inside and used as a primus-slagging _recharge capsule_. Reroute could only whistle shrilly in response.

Oh, right, thats how they had gotten there. _Reroute had invited them_. Five. She should have known. What kind of Decepticon ship holds only _five_ mechen? She should have _know_. She had taken a bad situation and made it even worse. Autobots, at least, could be reliably expected to give clean deaths. But apparently clean death was too good for her, because she had to go and contact the fragging _DJD_. What were they going to do to her? To Deckrun? To Trip- _dross_ , Trip had been _built_ as a fragging ‘bot. If they thought zhe tipped them off-

“Where are the Autobots?” Reroute’s voxcoder clicked abortively. Her servo seemed to have better survival instincts than her processor, because it rose of its own accord to point down the hall, stiffly signal directions to the main deck. They mobilized immediately, their broad pauldrons scraping against the walls of the narrow halls, the whine of guns onlining and the roar of blades spinning to life following them. Reroute reset her optics in confusion. They hadn’t even turned their music on. That was…? Reroute shifted her stance, and her gyros lurched. She looked down at her frame. In her scramble to the bridge she had torn open the already flimsy weld holding the plating of her left leg together and... oh wow, that was a lot of fuel.

That was… a whole lot… of... her fuel…

* * *

Reroute woke up to cold air on her internals and dull pain in her leg. She wanted to online her optics, but aborted the action in the same second she initiated it. _No no, play dead_ , she thought. _There’s no reason to torture someone who’s dead_.  The DJD were still onboard. If they knew she was alive they’d _really_ make her hurt.  She could hear Tarn’s voice, low and smooth and resonant. And then another voice, sharp and-

Reroute sat up suddenly, her gyos protesting every inch she raised her helm. She braced her arms against the floor, struggling to fully onlined her flickering optics.

“Trip!” she called through the hazy static of a misfiring vocaliser. “Trip disn’t- zhe disn’t do thif, s’not zir fauld.” Her words slurred into each other, she ground her voxcoder in an effort to reset it.

Suddenly there was another EM field against hers, Tripwire’s voice close by.

“Primus Reroute, lay down, you lost a lot of fuel.” The sight of the navigator stunned Reroute into compliance, she laid her helm back on the floor, though she immediately turned it around to look at their surroundings. There was energon splattered on the walls, mangled plating and dismembered frames. Plating barely greyed, she hardly recognised- wait. Reroute struggled to focus her optics. Actually, she didn't recognise any of those frames. And... were those Autobrands on- A shadow fell over her, and she darted her helm to see the smallest (still helm and shoulders taller than her) member of the DJD looking at her with empty sockets that shone with oil, the coils on his shoulders sparking electricity.

“You are the communications officer, correct?” he asked in a clipped voice. Reroute just stared at the mecha. He continued, unfazed. “Your equipment is still shot, but we’ve relayed your situation to Kolkular, they’ll have someone on site to fix it when you arrive. You _will_ be completing your delivery first, of course, we've taken care of your little infestation and reacquired your cargo.”

Reroute continued to stare. Her voxcoder clicked, reset. “You’re not gonna kill us?” she managed. Kaon arched his helm insignia, smiled eerily. Reroute got the distinct feeling that she should stop looking a gift drone in the gearbox.

“We punish disloyalty, not incompetence.” The executioner laughed as he turned to rejoin his squad. Reroute looked up at Tripwire’s trio of optics, all narrowed and bright.

<<I can’t believe you called the DJD for help>> zhe commed, optics darting up to glance at the squad before returning to Reroute's face <<I can’t believe it _worked_ >>

Reroute started up her voxcoder with a choked laugh.

<<What are you talking about?>> she commed back <<You can _always_ count on me to be incompetent>>

**Author's Note:**

> Listen I just love the idea of the DJD having non-murder-related interactions with other Decepticons I love it so damn much.


End file.
